


Imperial Protocol

by Cryosic



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Empire, F/M, GAR - Freeform, Implied Sexual Content, Loss, Pilots, Romance, Swearing, Trauma, assumed Naval protocols
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryosic/pseuds/Cryosic
Summary: Oran Fel was a human among clones in the Republic Navy. A pilot of exceptional skill, he faces loss constantly, but when the Republic becomes the Empire how will he fare?
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have a decent knowledge on the US military (specifically US Air Force) but it is far from perfect, that’s what I’m basing most of this story off, if you know something about the Republic/ Imperial Navy let me know.

Oran Fel’s life changed drastically overnight. His life could almost be broken into two parts. The age of the Republic, and the age of the Empire. Of course no one spoke ill of the Empire. Not anymore. 

Oran never spoke out. It was too dangerous. In the days of the Republic choices were criticized. Politicians insulted. The days of the republics were now looked back on with longing and mourning. Though it was never acknowledged out loud. Oran remembered being a fresh faced recruit to his planetary defense force. A pilot. His parents had been so proud. 

His skill was quickly recognized during the Clone wars. Most citizens of the republic had thought the GAR was comprised completely of Clone Troopers and Jedi. This simply wasn’t true. Though rare in numbers there were non cloned military personnel. It was in his first six months of being a pilot that he had received the invitation. It came from the Republic Pilots Academy. This was where all pilots in the Grand Army of the Republic were trained. Exceptional Skill and Promise those were the words they used. He left his home world of Lantillies not even a week later.

His first impression of Kamino was that of slight disappointment. He had spent much of his life in a city. He had been hoping for at least a little bit of nature on this new planet. That of course was nowhere to be found. Only rain clouds and waves. However the constant rain was rather relaxing to the young man far from home. 

It turned out he was the only non clone as a student at the Academy. Maybe people weren’t entirely wrong about the GAR. At first the Clones were wary of him. He was called an outsider, off-worlder, and Most commonly Ashi. He learned quickly that it meant Other in Mando’a. Another thing that isolated him from the Clones. He could barely speak a word of the closely held language. Still after a few weeks and several simulator runs he earned the respect of most of the clones. He even made a couple of friends. 

His closest friend and eventual Wingman was Splash. Splash was exceptionally talented. However he was never able to back down from a dare. Even when said dare involved flying a damaged Z-95 Headhunter around the Academy. Needless to say they had to get a team of Scuba Troopers to rescue him from the fighter. He was grounded for three weeks the second his waterlogged boots hit the floor. But Oran liked him. He was funny brave and a great friend. 

The day Splash was killed was the the first hardest day of Oran’s life he would never forget that day. 

“Hey Fel get over here so we can take off.” Oran quickly slipped his flight helmet on. He was wearing a variant of Clone trooper Armor. It nearly matched the pilots around him with only a few distinctions. He had several dark chevrons along his helmet marking him as a non cloned humanoid. He climbed into the pilots seat of the V-Wing. Splash was on his left inside of an ARC-170. He quickly prepped the ship waiting for the commands from the Bridge. After being cleared and receiving orders to join the next wave of fighters he took off and flew out of the large dorsal hanger. 

A short comm check and his squad was ready to go. The battle itself was a blur. He could remember brief glimpses. Like shooting down a Vulture, laughing at one of splash’s jokes and a near miss with a turbo laser. He remembered calling to his friend with an insult after a particularly poor shot when suddenly a massive blast ripped through Splash’s ship. A Vulture had crashed into him. It tore out part of the cockpit and cut straight through Splash. The 170 slammed into the side of Oran’s own star fighter. It threw him off course and damaged both his wings and Cockpit. His pressurized flight suit was what had saved his life. On quiet nights as he lay in bed he sometimes wished he had died with his closest friend. He felt the ship carrying his best friend explode. Throwing his ship away from the combat zone. He somehow managed to regain control even in the ships critical conditions and return to the Venator. He flew himself towards the hanger and cut the thrusters, he blacked out in impact, when he awoke he was being dragged out of the ruined star fighter as republic firefighters fought to extinguish the wreckage. His whole body was numb when the medic arrived and began to administer triage. He closed his eyes and began to sob as the medic worked.

Not long after that day he had Splash’s name tattooed on his forearm. He did the same with every pilot he knew that died. Soon his arm was crowded with names of those he flew with. 

After the fifth wingman he couldn’t afford to take the time to properly mourn. His heart had been hardened by death. The clone wars cost him many friends. Every day after retiring to the barracks he would bathe the sweat and grease from fighter maintenance. It was there he would think of those he lost. However as soon as he finished showering he closed himself off from his grief. 

After his first year he had already tattooed all along his left bicep. How he himself was still alive he didn’t know. He remembered a Jedi once telling him that the force had plans for him. Though what that meant he didn’t know. To be honest it didn’t make him feel much better. He spent two years as a pilot in the Republic. He was immensely proud of those two years. Still that didn’t change what he did and what would come.

He had been flying a combat mission on Bothawui. He was piloting a 170, his gunner and co-pilot chatting quietly when a transmission came over. Commander Crux’s helmet filled the screen. His distinctive green markings identifying him instantly. 

“Troopers the Jedi have betrayed the republic. Execute order 66.” The words sounded sinister for a reason he couldn’t place. The two clones behind him went silent at once. Oran’s head was reeling. Traitors? The Jedi? The air in the Starfighter became very still. Finally He broke the silence. 

“What’s Order 66? Do you know what’s going on?” There was a moment where no one said anything. The tension in the air was like a solid wall and Oran found it suddenly difficult to breathe.

“The Jedi must be executed for their treason.” The voice of his co pilot was grim. His throat was dry. He heard a fighter open fire on the Delta 7. The air in front of him was lit up by blue plasma. The Jedi took evasive action and the other fighters got into a dog fight. He didn’t move, he was frozen. After all this time the Jedi has betrayed the republic. He felt a cold fury burning in his heart. He argued with himself on what to do before he made his decision.He pulled the yoke hard to the side. The Jedi was rolling, gazing and dropping altitude, spinning, anything to avoid the fire of the 170’s. 

Oran pulled in right behind the Jedi and opened fire. He caught the Jedi off guard and managed to knock out his thrusters, the Clones took this opportunity and finished off the critically damaged interceptor.

He remembered the near silent flight back to the Venetor, everything afterwards was hazy they landed got a quick briefing over the new state of events that Oran paid money attention to and were dissmissed. He returned to his fighter running a hand over the ships hull. He paused at the decal near the cockpit it was a Pantoran female. Designed after a girl he had been interested in of back on Lantilles. Dirra, he smiled fondly at the thought of the girl. 

“You don’t need to worry about maintenance. I heard we’re scrapping the 170’s.” He whirled around coming face to face with another non Clone. A female human around his age.

“Oh and where did you hear that?” She shrugged nonchalantly. Her brown hair was tied back in a tight bun and her eyes were bright and intelligent 

“We’re getting entirely new equipment once the transition is over.” He felt lost at her words.

“What transition?” She laughed at him. 

“You should pay more attention Lieutenant the Galactic republic is being replaced. We’re now property of the Galactic Empire.” He felt a headache coming on. Sure it could just be a rebranding of the long standing republic, but he found that unlikely. The Republic it seemed was converting to a monarchy. He instantly felt a stab of doubt at his earlier blind loyalty. 

Were the Jedi truly traitors or was this a sinister plot to cover up a totalitarian coup. He shook the thought from his head before it could affect him too much. He didn’t have time to think about that he had other things to worry about. The woman strode past him slapping the side of his star fighter. 

“I’m gonna miss these bad boys, they were pretty damn reliable.” He leaned against his ship beside her looking at her face, studying it. She was new he was sure if it. He would have remembered another non clone on board. Especially one as attractive as her.

“I don’t think I caught your name.” He kept his voice nonchalant but inside he was burning to know more about her. 

“Senior Lieutenant Emilia Briggs, they call me Icarus.” He tilted his head at her unique callsign 

“How’d you get that.” She smiled, clearly pleased in his curiosity. 

“I took evasive action from a squad of Vultures and flew just a bit too close to a star. Ended up frying all my instruments and nearly melted one of my wings. But I managed to keep it together. Even got these as a reminder.” She rolled up the sleeve of her flight suit to expose large burns across her forearms and hand.

“I’m Oran, Oran Fel.” She smiled knowingly at him. 

“Oh I know you’re famous around the republic. Over three hundred combat missions and you’re still alive somehow. Not only that you had kill counts higher than some Jedi.” Her last words were quiet as if worried someone might overhear them. He ran a hand through his hair embarrassed at her flattery. 

“Well it doesn’t come cheap. I’ve lost too many good friends to separatists.” She nodded solemnly. Before her comm beeped. 

“I’ll catch you around, I’ve been assigned to your company. So we’ll see more of each other.” She brushed past him and Oran caught a whiff of her perfume. It was ridiculously pleasant and he felt his head swim just a little bit. It had been a long tome since he was around a girl. At least a normal one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story really gets lost underneath all the other ones but hopefully someone reads it

The transition from the republic was surprisingly smooth. New uniforms were issued along with blazing new star fighters and weapons. Even the armor was different. 

Oran couldn’t lie to himself. He looked good in black. Still he could do without the hood. They had to go through several training courses to become familiarized with the new starships. They were fast, very fast. Nearly the speed of an interceptor at max velocity. They maneuvered just as well. 

He spent weeks on flight practice, he was determined to be the best TIE pilot on the galaxy. He would climb into the cockpit await permission from the bridge then signal to the crew chief. He didn’t care for the Impersonal buzzer so he did what he always had done during the republic. A thumbs up and quick salute. It was always returned with a small smile before being hastily dropped. Then he would lift off and begin his training regimen. When he first started he was alone. However not long after he was joined by none other than Lieutenant Briggs. He could recognize her flight style even through the uniform exterior of the TIE fighters. He enjoyed their mock dogfighting and less often their joined tasks. Afterwards they would land and begin maintenance before heading down to DFAC. 

They spent most of their time during maintenance cracking jokes and making fun of the other. Oran would often crawl out from his ship and run a hand longingly over the plating. He missed the Decal of Dirra, even though he was long over her she was a small part of his home world with him light years away. He had requested leave to see his family but it had been denied. He looked over as Briggs crawled out of her TIE. Her hair stuck to her forehead due to the lack of temperature control in the pod while deactivated. Oran found himself watching her as she finished her repairs. He watched her wipe her forehead dislodging the stand of hair that now hung freely framing her face. 

He found himself watching her quite a lot, he didn’t know what to think of that. She turned around and flashed him a smile.

“Let’s get some food I’m starving.” Her smile was infectious and he followed her down to DFAC. Looking. He noticed that there were now more non clones aboard than before. The number seemed to be increasing as the days continued. Oran walked Briggs back to her room. The Empire with all its strict rules didn’t seem to bother segregating the men and the women. Everyone was equally worthless in their eyes. Thoughts like that resided only in his head, he knew if he even whispered them he would be charged with sedition before he could blink. 

Briggs thanked him for his chivalry before wishing him a goodnight and closing the door. He slowly returned to his own room. When he arrived he immediately showered. It was then his breath began hitching and coming in short gasps as he relived memories from the clone wars. He quickly shut the water off, the memories trickled out his body and flowed down the drain along with the water. He went to bed with a heavy heart as he studied the tattoos on his arms. The empire allowed body markings so long as they could be easily hidden. However that didn’t stop him from rolling his sleeves up whenever a CO wasn’t around to demerit him for it. Just as he was going to sleep he got a message.

0500 Report to Prep Deck for Mission Data

He groaned at the early morning and long day ahead of him before he closed his eyes. He dreamed on soft brown hair and sweet perfume. 

When he arrived in Mission Prep he found himself among 3 other pilots including Briggs. 

“We need a bomber team and a fighter teams to cover their run. The target is a potential terrorist cell on the planet of Lantilles. He felt a shiver at the thought of his home planet containing a terrorist cell, but it wasn’t impossible. They were a proud people who didn’t take too kindly to sudden change. He and Briggs would be one of the fighters guarding the bombers and he liked it that way, he could fly a bomber well, but he didn’t want to be the one to drop bombs on his home. It seemed wrong. After a few hours of planning they loaded up a Gozanti Class freighter and jumped into hyperspace to begin their journey. They didn’t speak to the pilots, they were tankers and often held some jealously towards fighters.

His temporary squadron lounged around in the hull playing card games and trying their best to pass the time. It was a long jump and eventually Oran got tired of Sabaac with MREs as credit standins. He laid back closed his eyes and placed his flight cap in front of his eyes.

He felt a nudge in his shoulder while sleeping. He jerked awake and Briggs told him they arrived. He slipped on his flight suit, pulling up his hood with a sigh, he followed the other pilots to their TIEs. He climbed in to the cockpit of his TIE fighter. He took several deep breaths with his eyes closed before slamming his helmet onto his head. He looked out the glass of the TIE fighter and looked out onto the planet in front of him. The Planet was a greyish brown. From space you couldn’t see the brightly colored buildings, their brightness a sharp contrast to the normal drab and dull buildings on many shipyard worlds. 

They detached from the Gozanti and left it to fall into orbit waiting for them to return. They entered the atmosphere making short call outs on their status and position. They moved in towards their target. Oran noticed his hands were shaking slightly. He gripped the yoke tighter. It helped a little bit not as much as he had hoped. The bombers swooped in and dropped their payload before swooping out of their approach. Oran followed them away from the target. Briggs pulled in behind them and they escorted the TIEs back to the freighter.  
The docking procedure was a blur to Oran. He staggered out of the fighter as soon as it had sealed with the cruiser and lurched towards the fresher. He braced himself against the wall and puked several times into the toilet. He stood up on shaky legs and exited the fresher. He backed against the wall and slid down the wall breathing heavily. 

He heard boots clicking down the hall.

“Fel? Are you alright?” He said nothing and she stepped closer. 

“Fel. What happened?” Now she sat down right next to him,

“I thought I had recognized the sector during briefing but I wasn’t sure.” She was silent waiting for him to continue.

“When we made our approach I realized where we were.” His throat started to close up. 

“The target was a favela. It was where I grew up, where my friends were, my parents.” She put a hand to her mouth.

“They may have made it.” Her voice was unconvincing and they both knew it.

“You know what that shit does to civilian construction. They probably leveled the whole street with those two torpedos.” When he said the words out loud it felt like he had finally sealed the nail in his parents coffins. There was no way they made it, the same was likely to be said for Dirra, Grane, and Fenris. The likelyhood they never made it out of those favelas was high. It hurt his very soul to think they had been murdered for someone else’s bad choice. He felt a hand slip into his own.

“I’m so sorry Oran.” He closed his eyes and slumped against her. His head resting on her chest and she silently rubbed his back. He didn’t cry, he was too far gone for that, but he knew from this moment on, things would never be the same. He could never see the Empire in the same light again.


	3. Chapter 3

She was warm, Oran hadn’t moved in 10 minutes, neither had she, her slow breathing slowly causing his head to rise in fall in time. He let out a shaky breath before drawing back. Her hand remained in place on Oran’s back, he took a deep breath before clearing his face of emotion as best he could. 

“I’m sorry for losing my bearing like that.” Her eyebrows shot up at his statement.

“Don’t pull that shit Fel, there’s nothing wrong with being human.” She briefly looked around before moving in, her face only a few inches from Oran’s “You don’t have to be what the Empire wants you to be.” She didn’t move for a moment her eyes unblinking and bright. She pulled back before standing up.

“I’m gonna get you some food, try not to do anything stupid, okay?” He nodded and she walked down the hall to the galley. Oran stood slowly and went into the fresher to clean himself up. He left the refresher when he heard Emilia’s flight boots clicking against the floor. She held out a now steaming MRE pack, he grabbed it from her hands and scarfed down as much as he could. He heard a small giggle from the girl across from him.

“I’m not gonna steal it from you, hope you realize.” He smiled weakly at her joke.

“Here, you’re probably starving too.” He handed over the bag and she gratefully accepted it. He sighed, “How are we supposed to make shit like this right?” She raised her head up from the food, and looked Oran in the eyes for a few seconds before handing over the food.

“You have to forgive yourself to begin with, and then you have to try to do some good in the world, you may never do enough to balance it out, but you have to try.” He leaned back, eating as he thought about her words.

“The bombers are totally out of it, you should take a note from their book and get some sleep.” He scoffed at her words.

“I doubt I could get any sleep even if I wanted to.” She rolled her eyes.

“Please, you’re fighter pilot in the Imperial Navy, you could sleep on the back of a rabid Bantha.” She stood brushing herself off before holding a hand out to Oran, he took it and she helped him to his feet. They walked down the hall side by side until reaching the small sitting area where they had been paying Sabaac. The two bombardiers they had been playing with   
earlier were slumped against each other in the seats, one was quietly snoring, Oran felt a pang in his chest, they had no idea what they had done to those innocent people down on Lantilles. Oran sat down in his chair took one last forkful of food and handed the bag to Emilia. She finished the package in silence before turning to him realizing he was still awake and gave him a pointed look.

“You’ve been through Hell Oran get some rest.” She brushed the hair from his forehead before leaning against him and shutting her own eyes. He tried, he really did. But When he closed his eyes he could see the bombs dropping in his home, he heard the screams that would have occurred, he felt the heat from the Proton explosion. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath, then another, with Emilia so close he could smell her perfume again, he closed his eyes and focused on that smell rather than the carnage which previously had occupied his mind.  
The nightmares began after that mission, they were vague and confusing, every night he would wake up in a cold sweat. They started with an explosion, then a little girl was crying, screaming for her mother tears streaming down her face she would walk through burning carnage and rubble. Her crying always made his throat constrict even in his sleep just before he would wake up a second bomb would fall from the sky, it’s whine echoing in his brain as it hit the ground just a few meters from the girl. Then he would wake up, gasping for breath and trying to block out the horrifying imagery his subconscious mind had created. He knew that the girl would have been nearly vaporized by the bomb, just the thought of something so horrible made the bile in his stomach rise. Some days he wondered if what he was seeing actually happened or it was just the darkest parts of his mind trying to force him to accept his actions. Emilia kept insisting he go see a Psych Officer, he always shot that idea down, he made her swear to secrecy and she reluctantly agreed. Still she always pushed him to seek help every time he talked to her. 

Three days after the bombing on Lantilles he tattooed every name he could remember, neighbors, friends, family. He got around fifteen including his parents. They went in a small space on his right forearm. 

Any time he wasn’t sleeping or eating he was training, wether in a Fighter or training his body, every morning he would run the length of the destroyer 7 or 8 times then he would begin his strength training. When he flew he worked on perfecting his flight capabilities, wether it was pulling turns sharp enough that the wings would begin to violently rattle and he would begin losing consciousness or by learning how to use the throttle to force other ships to whip past him during dogfights. He quickly became recognized as the most skilled pilot on the Star Destroyer, then the most skilled pilot in his Sector Group. He became well known by the public as possibly the best pilot in the Galaxy. 

He had just finished a training mission and was finishing up maintenance on his TIE when he head a shout.  
“Oran!” He looked up at his name to see Briggs marching towards him every line of her body showing Outrage and Indignation. 

“Emilia, whats going on?” Her hand shot out grabbing Oran by his flightsuit and dragging him away from his ship. 

“Get your ass over here.” Her voice and attitude convinced him she meant business, so he followed her without hesitation. She dragged him into a corridor before letting go of him and began to pace.

“Jesus Briggs whats gotten into you?” She stopped pacing and look him right in the face. 

“We’re getting reassigned, there’s been word of a group called the Partisans working out of Onderon. They’re speaking out against the Empire.” He raised his eyebrows.

“So that’s what’s got you so worked up?” She glared at him murder in her eyes and he regretted his question.

“No. I’m pissed off at you for avoiding me for the last week you asshat!” She hit him in the chest to emphasize her words. “I’ve been worried about you.” He felt guilty about that he really did. He never realized him trying to drown out the screams in his head would leave those around him floundering.

“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t look her in the eye, yet he desperately wanted to.

“Don’t shut me out. We’re wingmen we’re supposed to work together.” He was looking over her shoulder as he spoke. Her shaky voice caused a sharp pain deep in his chest.

She brought her hand up under his chin and tilted his face towards her.

“They’ve gotten worse haven’t they? The nightmares?” Before, he couldn’t look at her. Now no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t look away. Her eyes were glassy.

“Yes. It’s not just the little girl anymore, I can see people I knew, they’re in pain, afraid, dead. I could have stopped it.” She brought her hand up to his face once again resting her hand on his cheek

“Oran, you cant blame yourself for this, there was nothing you could have done, you need to shed this weight.”

“I’m not sure I want to. If I don’t carry it who will?” A small, sad smile graced her features.

“We will.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to get a story to get views under the all media types for star wars just cause there are so many stories a day. I’ve been debating wether or not to add a JFO tab seeing as this character came from my JFO fanfic but I’m probably not gonna let me know what you think

“Deck! A-Tench-Hut!” The Commanders voice was punctuated with the sound of nearly five hundred boots clacking together. There was a special guest visiting their Star Destroyer, and so here they were positioned in the hangar waiting for the ship to arrive. Oran was positioned to the right of his commander, Apparently the guest wanted to meet him personally. Emilia was to his left a few columns down in formation. He was starting to think that Commander Lihng was just screwing with them when a ship entered through the mag shield. A T-4 shuttle slowly pressed onto the ground. Steam hissed out of the vessel as the ramp lowered. 

A black boot loomed out of the steam followed by a second then armor clad legs and a body. Finally the steam cleared revealing a heavily armored man. He towered over the nearest storm trooper. His face was covered by a menacing mask. The Man strode forward his boots echoing in the silent hangar. Deep slow and even breathing hissed out of the helmet. The Ships Admiral, a man named Karish, stepped forward and greeted the strange and intimidating man. 

“Lord Vader, it’s an honor to have you aboard.” Lord Vader stares down at the admiral before continuing his stride. Karish has to almost jog to keep up with Vader’s Massive steps. The masked man was coming straight towards he and Commander Lihng. Oran was glad he had his helmet on, it created a safety barrier between him and this intimidating individual.

“You must be the pilot I’ve hear about.” His voice was deep and mechanical and it sent a chill down Oran’s Back 

“Yes Sir, Senior Lieutenant Oran Fel.” He was glad his voice had come out smooth and even without any tension in it.

“Your reputation proceeds you Lieutenant, I look forward to seeing you in action.” With that Vader strode past him his dark cloak swishing as he marched past. 

As Vader excited the hangar Commander Lihng called for the deck to fall out. Emilia came right for him. They took their helmets off almost in sync.

“Do you know who that is?” She hissed at him.

“I’m guessing it’s Lord Vader, whatever that means.” Her eyes widened at his statement.

“He’s the Emperors personal Enforcer. He does all of the Emperors wishes, he’s also the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet. He’s the one who is in control of Black Eight Squadron”

“The Black Eight! Well shit I’d wish I’d known that before he got on board.” Emilia grabbed his hand and dragged him towards his fighter.

“Come on you’re going to be doing a combat drill for your demonstration.” 

The two spent the next half hour prepping his ship for the demonstration, normally Oran wouldn’t trust anyone with pre flights for his ship but he trusted Emilia with his life, which expectedly this was.

They had just finished when a chime sounded over the intercom.

“Lieutenant Fel. In one minute board your craft and begin your demonstration.” A second chime signaled the end of the announcement and Oran scrambled started climbing into his fighter.

“Oran!” He stop and turned to see Emilia was still there below him he dropped down.

“What’s up? I have to get moving.” She opened here mouth then closed it before stepping closer to him quickly kissing him. Her perfume once again gracing his senses.

“Good luck.” Her cheeks were dusted with red and he smiled.

“Is that all I get?” he asked with a cocky smile he went in for another when she pushed him towards the ladder.

“Maybe you’ll get something more if you do well” he rolled his eyes before climbing the ladder again.

“I guess the pressures on then.” He threw back over his shoulder “I’m gonna hold you to that deal!” He strapped himself into the TIE before flipping a few switches to start her up. He closed the hatch winked at Emilia before saluting and taking off. 

The scream of his fighter got his blood moving as he flew through the tight hangar and shot off into space. As always the beauty of the stars and nearby planet took his breath away 

“This is Lieutenant Fel ready for demo flight, Tango India Echo, mock dogfight.” 

“Copy Lieutenant, your target for today’s red air sim is a TIE Advanced x1 fighter good luck.”

A TIE advanced, no one flew those they were reserved for special forces and Black Eight. He scanned as much space as he could through the small growing port. He almost missed it, the craft blended in to space so well. But there it was,slightly lower than him off his port wing. 

He yanked hard to the side and hit his engines. Just in time for two green lasers to whiz past him. He dove down to get on a level field before charging at the opposing craft. His target didn’t let up keeping a constant barrage of fire on him as he dipped and dodged,perhaps a dozen shots later the weapons needed to cool down. By the time Oran had a chance to shoot it was too late as he was too close to land a hit. He shot past the other craft before cutting his engines and turning completely around.his vision dimmed a bit as his blood rushed away then back into his head. He let off a few shots before hitting his engines again. Just when Oran was sure he had won the pilot of the other craft rolled out of the way less than a second before collision. His shots flew past harmlessly. 

The two of them played a game of cat and mouse dodging shots and barely avoiding each other. Just when Oran felt they had reached a stalemate the other pilot swept back around and shot a burst of lasers, as Oran began to evade another series of shots intercepted his path and his ship rocked with the impact. Even though there was no real damage his display blinked what it would have done had they been real shots. His starboard wing had been crippled and one of his engines was critical. He had lost. Bad. He had gone down in one hit.

“Mock fight has been terminated Please return to hangar Lieutenant, better luck next time.” He piloted his ship in silently his anger slowly building in his system. When he landed Emilia was there. He dragged himself out of the fighter and climbed down the ladder. Tucking his helmet under his arm, he started walking anger visible in every line of his body. He heard Emilia struggling to catch up to him. He didn’t slow down, she sped up to catch him. He finally felt her hand on his shoulder and it was like she had hit a switch on him. Throwing his helmet down he turned and punched the side of the hallway, he kept hitting it shattering the lights imbedded in the wall. Finally he stopped and leaned against the wall before sliding down it. Broken glass crunching under his boots.

“Oran. I-“

“I lost.” He interrupted. “I lost to someone I don’t even know, and I made a fool of myself in front of the commander of the entire military. Do you understand what that feels like!” She sat down next to him grabbing his hand. His knuckles were red and there were several large gashes in his hand from broken glass.

“No, but I know that you did your best and that’s what really matters.” He scoffed at her support, he knew is was a horrible thing to do but he couldn’t help himself. 

“People aren’t gonna remember me for my best, they’ll remember that I lost.”

Her hand cupped his cheek and turned his face towards hers. 

“I won’t.” She Lenard in and kissed him, this time it was slow her lips soft against his own, her perfume making his head swim. Something inside him deflated and all of his anger and frustration seemed to seep out of him. His good hand settled on her waist and the other was resting on her cheek. He felt her other hand slide up to his hair. she broke the kiss leaning her forehead against his. Laughing softly

“As far as I’m concerned you did well.” He remembered what she said to him before he took off.

“So what’s my Consolation prize then.” She smiled and bit her lip.

“Why don’t you follow me and find out.” She stood up and started walking again he got up as fast as he could grabbing his helmet and following her. She grabbed his hand as he came even with her. She laced their fingers and lightly pulled him into the direction of her quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably won’t show what happened between this chapter and the next one to keep it rated T and because I’ve never written a smut scene. But I will cave to the will of the people If anyone wants it

**Author's Note:**

> Any thing you have to say I’m interested in so don’t be afraid to comment.


End file.
